


His name

by where_the_kissing_never_stops



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt, It's All Sad, M/M, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:14:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22566892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/where_the_kissing_never_stops/pseuds/where_the_kissing_never_stops
Summary: Set a few years post 1x06, and ignore the rest of the series, as in there is no Ciri. It is just Geralt and Jaskier, talking.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	His name

**Author's Note:**

> Set a few years post 1x06, and ignore the rest of the series, as in there is no Ciri. It is just Geralt and Jaskier, talking.

Five years. Five years it had been since Geralt pushed Jaskier away. And to be honest, there had been days when Geralt hadn’t missed the bard at all, but that was mostly because he was too busy (or busy dying) to really think about him.

No. That was a fucking lie.

Anyone who asks, though, that’s the answer they receive from the Witcher. He tells them all that the bard was foolish, getting himself into all sorts of trouble without thinking, and whilst the company was nice, it was time for Geralt to move on alone. Everyone gets that answer, or some version of it. He tries not to talk down about Jaskier too much, but he needs to save his skin. Witchers don’t have feelings, after all. 

Apart from this one does. 

Which is why, after five-and-a-bit years of travelling with Roach and nobody else’s regular company, he can’t seem to stand it anymore. When Geralt rocked up to a small tavern out in the sticks for a night’s rest and opens the tavern door, he noticed who was inside; a fair few farmers together with their tankards chatting about nothing, a couple in the corner trying not to be noticed, and a man sat at the bar, with his head in his hand, a cup of ale, and a look of nothingness about his person. 

Geralt stared and the man, sighing softly and dipping his head in shame that only he knew about. The man had long, unruly hair and Geralt thought he saw stubble, but that could’ve been the shadow. He was in all dark clothing, with a cloak wrapped around him, and had his eyes closed. Geralt could hear the other man’s breathing, and thought he was asleep with how slow and rhythmic it was. 

“You coming in or staying out? You’re letting the cold air in.” Geralt’s observations were interrupted by the tavern owner from behind the bar. This also stirred the shadowed man, who shook his head, almost to wake himself up, and he glanced lazily towards the door. When his eyes reached Geralt’s they stared at each other for a few seconds, then he looked away, as if he was staring into nothing. 

Geralt walked in. He slowly sidled up to the barkeeper, not knowing what to do. Approach the figure? He made it clear he wasn’t interested in what Geralt had to say, or even acknowledging that he was in the same building as him. But Geralt couldn’t leave, he needed to save face in front of this sparse crowd, even so. 

“Ale.” Geralt received a tankard. He turned to face the other man. “Jaskier.”

The other man shook his head, but turned to the Witcher nonetheless. “Not even a hello.” He slammed his fist on the table. “How long has it been? And you can’t even be arsed to say hello?” A swig of his drink. “Evidently we aren’t doing pleasantries, which suits me. Fuck off, Witcher.”

Those words were unexpected. “Jaskier, please.” Geralt didn’t know what else to say. “Please.”

“You know,” Jaskier said with a laugh, getting off his stool and walking towards the white haired man bringing his drink with him, with rage and sadness simultaneously in this eyes. All Geralt could smell was anger, anger and alcohol. “I stayed with you for years. I travelled with you, sang songs about you, spread your stories far and wide and changed the whole continent’s view of you, yet you- you still shunned me.” More ale down his throat. “I thought I deserved a little more than that, so I waited a little while. Waited to see if you would apologise, but nothing. A sweet fuck all to be seen of the White Wolf. So I thought, he doesn’t give a toss, so why should I.” Jaskier downed the rest of his cup, swaying a bit as he passed his cup back to the barman who gave him another drink in response. “So, what say ye, good sir?” Jaskier asked with a snide laugh.

Geralt took a breath. “I regret what happened-”

Jaskier blew a raspberry. “Bollocks! You Witchers don’t have feelings! Don’t you dare lie to me,” Jaskier shouted at Geralt, but Geralt carried on. 

“If I could take it back, I would. In a heartbeat, Jaskier. I’ve… missed your company more than I have ever mentioned-”

“You’re telling me. Foolish? Was that the best you could come up with?” The bard mumbled into his drink, taking another swig. 

“Jaskier.” Geralt took Jaskier’s hand, which was withdrawn immediately. 

“No. Don’t you fucking dare. You do not get to do that.” A sigh. “Do you know how much that hurt? It was my life too, you know, and you ripped it away from me. I had no purpose. And that was down to you.” Jaskier tried to continue, but just mumbled, “I wish I had never met you.”

“No, you don’t mean that-”

“Fuck off! How many times! Leave! I don’t want to see you and you do not fucking deserve this satisfaction. I just-” His voice cracked, and Geralt’s heart broke. “I can’t do this. I can’t,” and he picked up his belongings and as good as ran out of the tavern. 

“Wait-” Geralt called after him, throwing some coins at the innkeeper, before following Jaskier outside. “Jaskier!”

The bard wasn’t outside the tavern. Geralt quickly turned to the left, and saw a fist flying towards his face, which he swiped away as if it was a fly. It was Jaskier’s, who could barely see through the tears in his eyes. 

“You do not get to call me that. You do not get to waltz back into my life as if nothing has changed, because even if it hasn’t for you, my world fell apart-”

“You really think nothing changed for me? You really think that?” Geralt shouted back, grabbing a struggling Jaskier by the shoulders and looking him dead in the eyes. “Uneducated people think that we have no emotions, no feelings, but I thought that how long you were with me, I thought you would have realised that is nowhere near the truth.” Jaskier stopped struggling as much. Geralt continued, “I threw away the best thing that had happened to me in years. Jaskier, that was you. Undoubtedly. Unashamedly. You. I let the heat of the moment completely cloud my judgement and I lost you for years. I will never forgive myself, Jaskier, for how I made you feel, for what I said, for the fact that it was five fucking years before I finally saw you again. Five years filled of regret.”

Geralt dropped his arms and took a small step back. Jaskier was now the one without words. He looked at the Witcher, noticing the crows feet, the lines of his forehead and how bedraggled his hair was. “You still made me leave.”

“I know. I wish more than anything that I could take it back.” A small sigh. “I’m so sorry.”

Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat. He had apologised, after all this time. 

“What can I do to make it right, Jaskier?” Geralt looked so sincere, it hurt Jaskier’s heart, which he didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing. “Anything.”

Jaskier sighed. “Ask me that when I’m sober.” He pushed past the Witcher and went back inside. Geralt’s eyes lingered on the door long after Jaskier had disappeared through it. It was going to be a rather long night.


End file.
